


Get a Little Broken Over You

by stardropdream



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Emotional Constipation, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 04:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13205793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: "You have to trust me, Yuuri," Victor says - but it isn't a matter of trust, Yuuri thinks. It isn't that he doesn't trust Victor - it's that he doesn't trust himself. Or: In all this time they've been dancing around each other, they really could have just been dancing with each other.





	Get a Little Broken Over You

**Author's Note:**

> After a massive writer's block, I race to the finish line in terms of posting one more thing before the new year. I'm not entirely happy with this but I've wanted to write something about the pair skating for a while now, so at least I got it down into words. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Victor touches his hand the morning after Onsen on Ice and Yuuri rips his hand away. They’re at breakfast and the morning is chilled, but the morning light is soft – and Yuuri is instantly ashamed of his reaction. He flushes and mumbles an apology. He quickly busies both hands, picking up his chopsticks and his bowl of rice. 

Victor watches him, not looking unhappy – but perhaps a little confused, quiet for a moment as he watches Yuuri. Victor is often looking at him – and Yuuri can’t even begin to understand his expressions, what Victor is thinking. Victor is an enigma. Victor is a god. Yuuri ducks his head, eating his rice and tasting no flavor at all. Suddenly, he isn’t very hungry. 

Yuuri’s mother enters from the kitchen and greets the two of them. Her English is halting and practically nonexistent and yet Victor still does his best to greet her in heavily accented Japanese. Under normal circumstances, Yuuri would find it endearing. Now, he can only find it mortifying – stuck between two people as they try to communicate and knowing he could serve as the translator for both. Neither Victor or Yuuri’s mother seem particularly troubled, which only serves to distress Yuuri more. 

Victor turns back towards Yuuri with wide smile and Yuuri looks away quickly, studying the grains of rice stuck to the side of his bowl. 

It isn’t that Yuuri is afraid of Victor. It isn’t so simple as that. Truthfully, Yuuri isn’t entirely sure how to classify his feelings – and hasn’t that always been the trouble for him, really? – and every day Victor is more and more _here_ and _present_ and that, more than anything, is difficult to navigate. 

It’s one thing to look at posters on your wall and fantasize about meeting your idol. It’s another thing to be made vividly aware just how much of a human your idol actually is. 

It’s only been a few weeks. He knows it’s just going to get worse. 

“ _Good morning!_ ” Victor says in Japanese when he means to say _thank you_ , and nobody corrects him, although from the kitchen’s doorway, he can see Mari shooting their mother an amused look. It isn’t that Victor got the words mixed up – he’s just excited to be speaking the language. He quickly corrects himself. 

Yuuri feels his cheeks flush – and is unsure why. Yuuri knows the heaviness of his own heart – knows the twist of longing in his gut when he watches Victor scrub his fingers through his hair absently after soaking in the onsen, sweat beading at his forehead from the heat of the waters. It’s in the simple things – the way Victor seems to glide down the hallway as if he were on ice one moment, then just clomps down absently when he’s not thinking, following after Makkachin with a light, pearly laugh. 

Victor could reach out and touch him right now. He knows this. He wants it – and fears it at once. It isn’t the lack of attraction. It isn’t the lack of desire. It is the fear of that desire – the fear of vulnerability, of intimacy. 

It isn’t that Yuuri is inexperienced through lack of opportunities. He knows there’s been opportunities in the past – people who have expressed interest, people who would have gladly gotten closer to Yuuri. Opportunities, yes. Opportunities that he’s ignored. Not for fear of someone seeing him naked, not for fear of someone laughing at him. Yuuri’s grown up in an onsen, after all. He’s been in locker rooms. His naked body isn’t what bothers him, even with all its flaws, even with all its shortcomings. 

It’s terrifying. To think of himself as vulnerable. To have someone really _see_ him – to open his heart and let someone know everything about him. 

No matter how much he might want it. No matter how much – he thinks, inconceivably – Victor must want it, too. He knows Victor would be gentle. Would be kind. Would be gracious. 

But all he can imagine is closing his eyes and—

Victor being gone again. Another whisper in the night. Another unfulfilled moment. 

Yuuri could push past this fear – nebulous and indistinct as it is. He could force himself. He could push through it and just – enjoy the moment while it lasts. Take what he can while he still has the chance. 

He could let Victor touch his hand. He could reach out and touch Victor himself. He could trust himself with that – he could trust this. 

And yet, he doesn’t. 

 

-

 

Victor is a god to him. Practice with him is shaky at best. Every moment Yuuri thinks he’s regained some confidence, Victor makes a soft _hmmm_ sound just before offering constructive criticism. Or, worse, he’ll laugh – and it sets Yuuri’s entire body on fire, feeling agitated and on edge. He can’t handle Victor. He doesn’t know what to do about him, how to handle him – there’s too much and too little at once. 

“Yuuri, concentrate,” Victor tells him, as if Yuuri hasn’t been doing that, hasn’t been _trying_ to do that. He feels frustration welling inside him and still has no way to express it. 

He knows that all Victor must see are his shortcomings, his failures and his insecurities. It is only a matter of time, after all, before Victor leaves – and this time is borrowed. This time is precious and he should be treating it as precious. 

But all he’s doing is waiting for it to end. 

 

-

 

Victor takes him to the beach and it—

It helps. It helps in its own way, or at least helps for Yuuri to feel more settled, to feel less like he’s going to shake apart, or that everything he’s doing is _wrong_. It’s still a lot. It’s still overwhelming. 

But it’s better. 

 

-

 

“Not bad,” Victor calls from the doorway and Yuuri startles. He hadn’t realized Victor was there – hadn’t realized that Victor even knew to look for him here at Minako’s place. 

He stumbles, uneasy on his feet, and quickly clicks off the music on his phone. He straightens, turning to Victor – expression nothing short of ‘deer in the headlights’, he’s sure. 

Victor smiles pleasantly, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. 

“Not bad?” Yuuri parrots back, feeling hopelessly out of his depth. Just a moment ago, he felt like he was in his body again, like he understood himself and the way he moved – he’s always felt that way, dancing – and now he feels like the strangest, something imprecise and undecided. He wonders if Victor will always feel this way to him – something ethereal and inescapable, no escape velocity strong enough to feel centered in his orbit. 

“You’re known for your footwork,” Victor says, and his smile turns gentler. “Of course your dancing would be skilled.”

Yuuri flushes, and fiddles with his towel draped over Minako’s barre. He wipes at his brow and scrubs at his face, if only so he doesn’t have to look at Victor right away. 

“What were you working on?” Victor asks. 

“Ah, mmm… nothing really,” Yuuri admits, feeling red-faced and ridiculous as he moves across the room, reaching for the water bottle propped up against the wall near Victor. Victor steps into the room fully now and lets the door shut behind him. Yuuri fiddles, screwing and unscrewing the cap of his bottle. “It was only…” 

He trails off helplessly, unsure how to put it to words.

“Restless energy?” Victor guesses and Yuuri nods gratefully. He doesn’t know how Victor could guess – maybe he’s been talking to the others, or maybe Yuuri is just that transparent. He’s grateful not to have to say it himself. Victor continues, “You do that a lot. Go out alone to work off your thoughts.” 

Yuuri screws his mouth into a thin line, feeling pinned to the spot again. Victor isn’t _wrong_ , but it feels pathetic to hear it voiced like that, like he’s unable to combat his own anxious mind. 

“Is it alright if I watch?” Victor asks. 

“What? My dancing?” Yuuri asks, and wants to say no, wants to shove Victor out the door. But he looks up at Victor and his eyes are so soft, imploring – not pitying, but curious. Victor is painfully beautiful, even in the flickering lighting of Minako’s studio. 

“If you don’t mind,” Victor says – as if he doesn’t know that Yuuri won’t say no. “I’d like to see.” 

“I’m not very good, but…” Yuuri begins, trails off, and swallows before starting again, “It’s alright, but it won’t be anything interesting.”

“I don’t mind,” Victor answers. 

He strides to the corner of the room and sits down, crossing his legs. It’s just the littlest bit absurd, seeing Victor like this – tucked away in a corner, on a dusty floor, wearing his absurdly expensive clothing in the late evening. 

Yuuri takes a large gulp of water and sets it down again before moving back to his phone. He flips through a few songs until he settles on one with a simple enough tempo, and tries to forget Victor is in the corner, watching him.

Of course, forgetting Victor is there is something like trying to forget a predator stalking you at the other end of the room. That is: it’s impossible. He’s painfully aware of Victor’s eyes on him, of Victor watching him. It’s thrilling to think he could capture his attention, but he feels fundamentally ill-prepared to accommodate his expectations. 

So instead, he stumbles. He stumbles again and again. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, as he unbalances, loses all musicality that he once had. 

Victor is watching him carefully and shakes his head. “It’s okay, Yuuri.” 

It isn’t. Yuuri doesn’t quite get his groove back that night, and when the two walk back together towards his family’s inn, Yuuri can only feel ashamed.

 

-

 

Every morning at 6:30, Makkachin wakes Victor up with a quiet _woof._ Yuuri’s always been a light sleeper, which is the only reason why Makkachin ever wakes Yuuri up from one room over, as quiet as he is. 

But every morning, Yuuri slogs himself out of bed and looks out the window in time to see Victor, dressed pristinely and looking radiant and beautiful, walk out into the morning light with Makkachin on a leash. 

He imagines that Victor enjoys these mornings, knows that he calls out a chipper Japanese _good morning!_ to everyone he passes, smiling and bright. Makkachin trots along with him. Sometimes, he’ll even take Makkachin off his leash and let him run along beside Victor. 

Yuuri usually falls back asleep before Victor returns. But when he arrives to breakfast each morning, Victor is always there waiting for him – and always beaming when Yuuri comes down the stairs, as if he can’t believe how happy he is to see Yuuri once more. As if Yuuri doesn’t live here. 

Sometimes Yuuri sleeps through breakfast completely. Sometimes it’s purposeful. 

 

-

 

At night, before falling asleep, sometimes Yuuri will watch old videos on his phone – usually Victor’s routines. 

Most nights, it’s _Stay Close to Me_. He watches it over and over again, on mute, so nobody else in the house has to know.

 

-

 

“Do you ever feel incomplete, Yuuri?” Victor asks one night in the onsen, as they’re soaking their muscles after a long practice. _Eros_ and _Yuri on Ice_ are coming along well enough, but Yuuri still knows he could be better, still knows that he’s disappointing Victor. 

Yuuri frowns, tries to puzzle out the question, tries to see how it is that Victor is testing him, how it is that Yuuri is incomplete. He knows his programs still need work, knows he’s still missing something and—

“I guess,” Yuuri answers. 

Victor’s looking up at the sky. Even a small town like Hasetsu has enough light pollution that only a few stars peak through, at least with the low glow of the lights in the onsen’s layout. There are enough lights here that when Yuuri glances up, too, there are only a few smatterings of constellations, half-formed and barely seen through the steam of the warm water. 

“Why?” Yuuri presses. 

Victor doesn’t answer. He lifts his hand, adjusting the towel across his forehead. He’s not quite smiling, but there’s the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Victor often looks like that, in quieter moments like this – not quite smiling, but prepared to do so at any given moment. 

“You know,” Victor says, after a long moment. “Yuuri, I…”

He trails off, studying the sky with a frown now. It pinches the bridge of his nose. Yuuri waits, hands clenched at his sides, for what it is that Victor is going to say. 

But Victor lets the thought go, just as he lets so many things go – and he laughs a moment later, at himself, shaking his head and looking back at Yuuri with a soft smile. 

“Tomorrow, let’s work on the jumps, okay?” 

“Okay, Victor.” 

Later, when they’re ready to leave the onsen, Victor stands first. Yuuri watches – stares, really – at Victor’s body. He isn’t afraid of the nakedness, the slope of his muscles, the curve of his body. He watches it, almost academically cataloguing every inch of Victor’s body. It’s beautiful, of course. Everything about Victor is beautiful. 

 

-

 

One evening, outside Victor’s door, on the way towards his own, Yuuri finds himself hesitating. Victor turns to him with a smile as he slides open the door to the banquet hall serving as his room. 

Victor opens his mouth – about to bid Yuuri goodnight, as he always does – but seems to see something in Yuuri’s expression, because he goes quiet. He looks at Yuuri for a long moment, silent and still. Yuuri holds his breath, looking up at him, wide-eyed. 

Ridiculously, he thinks – _I could kiss him right now._

It isn’t the first time he’s thought such a thought. He’s thought of kissing Victor before he even properly knew him. The thought floats in and floats back out again. 

The more ridiculous thought is: _He’d kiss me back._

Absurd, to think that Victor could ever desire someone like him, who is a failure and slow-learner, who is weak and anxious, who has to sneak away each night in order to steady his thoughts. Even as he thinks it, he knows it’s unfair – to Victor. Victor is kind; he’d never agree with Yuuri’s self-assessment, no matter how true it is. 

Victor’s face is soft in the moonlight filtering in through the windows. He’s been here long enough that, oddly, he looks like he belongs. He smells like the onsen now, sulfur and minerals. Like the linens he wears, the detergent his mother uses. The Hasetsu ocean. He smells like he’s lived here for years and it’s a strange thought, but there – and smell is linked with memory, and it’s as if Victor has always been here, as if Victor has woven himself intrinsically into the fabric of Yuuri’s past. 

After all, he’s somehow always existed in Hasetsu – on blurry television screens and every poster he could import. Now, in the flesh, it’s as if Hasetsu has always just been waiting for Victor to arrive, to wrap him up into the fabric of the town. 

This should terrify Yuuri more than it does. 

Yuuri licks his lips and Victor’s eyes flicker down at the movement. 

It’s too much. Yuuri looks away, ducks his head and stares at their feet. Watches the way Victor’s toes curl a little against the hard wood. 

“Well,” Yuuri croaks out. “Goodnight, Victor.”

“Goodnight, Yuuri,” Victor says quietly as Yuuri walks away.

 

-

 

“Mind your posture,” Victor tells him at practice. Yuuri feels the slap of rejection in the words – something so simple and he can’t even get that right. He’s supposed to be decent at his spread-eagles and yet it looks clumsy and ridiculous. He knows this. He can _hear_ the thread of frustration lacing Victor’s voice. 

He goes back to his starting position and tries to be mindful of his posture – but it only feels worse, only feels unnatural. He messes up enough that Victor calls out for him to stop again. 

Yuuri doesn’t listen – tries to launch into the jump, and falls hard onto his elbow instead. He hisses out a little and immediately gets back onto his feet, his mood darkening as he catches sight of Victor’s expression. 

“Yuuri,” Victor sighs, hands on his hips, and Yuuri burns with shame, ducking his head as he skates his way to Victor’s side, repentant and apologetic before Victor even has to say the criticism. Instead of that, though, Victor asks, “Are you alright?” 

Yuuri looks up at him, startled. It isn’t an unreasonable question. He’d stumbled on jumps he should know by now, messed up easy things like footwork and transitions, things he should _know_ and excel at by now. 

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, staring down at his skates, ears turning pink. 

“Your mind’s elsewhere today,” Victor muses, and it comes out more a question than an observation. When he glances up at Victor, he has his hand on his chin and his lips are twisted up into a thoughtful grimace. Even like that, he manages to look handsome. Victor continues, “I told you to stop and you didn’t.” 

“Sorry,” Yuuri mumbles, but the word sounds hollow. 

“Yuuri,” Victor says again, a little hasher this time – more commanding. “You have to trust me.” 

Yuuri doesn’t see how this can have anything to do with trust. And it’s – a strange thing, too. He understands that a coach must have a certain level of trust with his skater in order to be successful, but he isn’t sure if he’d have defined one of the cornerstones of his relationship with Celestino as ‘trust’. He isn’t sure if he would say he trusts Victor as his coach. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust him. More that he can’t trust himself with this, or trust that he can keep Victor’s attention here. 

But if it was trust that was bothering Victor—

He looks up at him. 

“I’m not injured,” Yuuri tells him, conciliatory. His elbow will definitely bruise, but it’s nothing serious. 

“That isn’t what I mean,” Victor says, almost snaps – and he’s not sure if he’s ever heard Victor snap, or raise his voice, or be anything other than ridiculously charming and charismatic to everyone in Hasetsu or the world proper. 

“Sorry,” Yuuri mumbles, properly cowed. “I’ll get it right next time.” 

“No,” Victor answers. “Let’s try something else instead. Something you’ll be able to focus on better.” 

Victor likely means it as accommodation, as reassurance – but Yuuri feels his shoulders hunch up, feels himself bow into himself. Shame burns hard in his chest and he feels, pathetically, like crying at the command. He’s _failed_ and now Victor has given up for the day, decided to move on to something simpler, something that not even stupid, stupid Yuuri could mess up.

“I can do it,” he protests, weakly, but he only sounds pathetic to his own ears. 

“For someone who claims to have no confidence,” Victor says, “you’re rather stubborn, aren’t you, Yuuri?” 

Yuuri ducks his head, slamming his eyes shut to fight back against the burn of tears. His hands clench at his sides for a moment before, just as abruptly, all fight leaks out of him – everything just leaves him entirely and his mind becomes a screaming void. He’s failed. He’s failed and frustrated Victor, wasted his time. 

He lets Victor move him along towards his spins instead. His heart isn’t in it and he knows, by the end of practice, that Victor is disappointed in him. 

 

-

 

That night, Yuuri returns to Ice Castle and practices alone in the dark until he nails that jump – again and again and again.

He’s exhausted the next morning but when he lands the jump on the first try, he can see Victor’s surprised smile out of the corner of his eye. 

 

-

 

One morning in early summer, during one of Yuuri’s rest days, he comes downstairs for breakfast and is surprised to see Victor not sitting at the table, chatting away with his mother and Mari. 

“Oh, good morning,” his mother says with a warm smile. “Vicchan’s already gone off for the day.”

“To the beach,” Mari supplies, who at least knows enough English to be able to communicate with foreigners. 

It’s not a difficult matter to find Victor. After he eats his breakfast, he hesitates only for a moment before setting out to find Victor. He isn’t easy to miss – the only foreigner on the beach, and Makkachin a barking, delighted dog chasing sticks down the beach and through the surf. Up on the steps leading from the street down to the beach, Yuuri watches them for a moment. Victor’s coat is discarded in the sand, his pant legs rolled up as he throws the stick as far as he can for Makkachin to chase after. 

“Oh, Yuuri!” Victor calls out in surprise when Yuuri approaches. The wind licks away any sound he’d made in approaching and it’s only because Victor turned his head that he managed to see Yuuri approaching. 

“Good morning,” Yuuri greets, flushing a little when Victor’s face blooms into a wide smile upon seeing Yuuri. 

“I was expecting you to sleep in until the afternoon,” Victor chirps out happily. “You’re always sleeping in.” 

Yuuri’s mouth twitches with an embarrassed smile. Before he can speak, though, Makkachin’s returning with his stick, spots Yuuri, and quickly changes course. A moment later, Yuuri is flat on his back, a very wet and happy dog on his chest slobbering across his face.

“Ah, Makka— wait—!” Yuuri calls out, and can’t help but laugh as he tries to push him off again. The sound bubbles out of him before he can quite stop it, a high-pitched, ridiculous noise. He must look ridiculous, all bed-rumpled and tired. 

When he looks up at Victor, though, Victor looks stricken – his eyes wide a little and staring at Yuuri. Suddenly, Yuuri fears he’s done something wrong, hurt Makkachin in some way or done some sort of faux pas with someone else’s dog.

“W- what?” he asks, blushing.

“I’ve never heard you laugh before,” Victor says, voice nothing short of wondering. 

Yuuri feels completely thrown over by that – and he blushes up to his ears, unsure how to even to begin to respond to such a statement. 

“Um,” he says, eloquently. 

Victor pulls Makkachin off Yuuri with a shake of his head. “It’s a nice sound. I wish you did it more often.”

Again, Yuuri isn’t sure how to respond to that statement. He stares up at Victor, wide-eyed and blushing. 

Victor bites his lip for half a moment and then takes the stick and throws it far for Makkachin. He’s off in a flash. 

Victor turns back towards him and holds out his hand to Yuuri, to help him to his feet. In all the weeks that Victor’s been here, he’s been respectful about Yuuri’s space. He hasn’t casually touched him in – a long time, Yuuri realizes. He must have noticed Yuuri’s embarrassment, his insecurity. 

Yuuri looks at the hand for only a moment. Then, afraid that Victor would withdraw it, he reaches up and takes his hand and lets Victor pull him to his feet. Their hands linger, a simple touch – inconsequential, aside from the fact that Yuuri feels as if he might float away if Victor lets go of him. 

Victor looks just as loathed to let go, too, watching Yuuri with nothing short of wonderment. 

“… Want to throw sticks for Makkachin?” Victor finally asked. 

“Sure,” Yuuri answers. He doesn’t let go of Victor’s hand until Makkachin returns with the stick. 

 

-

 

After that, something seems to shift in them – suddenly, Victor drifts closer to him and Yuuri lets him. Their shoulders touch at meal times. Victor touches Yuuri’s hips to guide him into the proper position during practice. Their hands brush as they leave the onsen at night. Victor squeezes Yuuri’s arm before they part ways for the night. 

Each touch sets Yuuri into the smallest little panic – and yet, again and again, he finds himself craving that touch. Waiting for it, expecting it. Needing it. 

Victor’s hands touch his shoulders during practice and he leans back into it. Their hands brush as Victor hands him his skate guards and Yuuri wants his fingertips to linger. Victor offers a hand to help Yuuri onto his feet after practice, and Yuuri lingers, lets his full body lurch into that guidance. 

 

-

 

Victor leans back against the wall as Yuuri goes through the choreography in front of the mirror at Minako’s place. The letters spelling her name reflect back and he tries to focus on that when planting his feet, when bowing his head, when arching his back. 

“Again,” Victor commands when Yuuri pauses for breath, buckling over, hands on his knees. Sweat slides down his spine and his entire body aches in a way that feels so rewarding, so good. Yuuri nods at the instruction and sucks in a deep breath before launching again. 

 

-

 

That night, like so many nights before, Yuuri lingers at Victor’s door. Victor pauses, too, and turns towards him with a small smile – just as he has so many nights before. Tonight, the moon doesn’t light across Victor’s cheeks. It’s a new moon and the hallway feels darker, now. It’s comforting, to think that Victor can’t see Yuuri’s expression as deeply. 

Victor looks at him, and tonight there’s a strange feeling of expectancy. Yuuri feels it, too, feels it in the way his bones ache. The last couple months have done wonders for the tension in his shoulders. He dares to think that, almost, he and Victor are friends. Some days they even talk about things that aren’t about skating – that are just quiet discussions. Victor knows more about Yuuri’s life than anyone outside his family has ever known. 

He thinks that Victor might be starting to understand Yuuri. At least, coaching seems to be going more smoothly. 

But it isn’t the coaching that Yuuri is focusing on now. He looks up at Victor – and Victor is watching him back. His eyes are soft, half-lidded. 

“Yuuri?” Victor whispers, and it’s a question without purpose. No words come after. 

Yuuri finds himself shifting closer, swaying into Victor’s space. He blinks once and then traces his eyes across Victor’s face. Victor stays still, watching him quietly, letting Yuuri study him – this close, so close. He can feel Victor’s breath. 

“Yuuri,” Victor says again. Not a question this time. Not even a command – something like a plea. 

“Yes,” Yuuri answers, and doesn’t know what it is he’s saying yes to. 

Victor’s hand lifts and touches Yuuri’s chin. Yuuri lets him, his eyelashes fluttering for a moment, as if he can’t decide to close his eyes or keep them open. 

“Will you?” Yuuri asks, before he can question it.

“Yes,” Victor answers, and his head inches forward. Slowly, so slowly. Even the hand to his chin was a warning, even this is a warning – as if Victor expects him to pull back, as if he expects this to end. 

Yuuri closes his eyes and leans the rest of the way forward and kisses Victor. He doesn’t know what it is about tonight that made this different, but his entire body feels on the verge of shaking apart. Closeness. He feels it again – that vulnerability. It scares him. 

He touches Victor’s cheek and kisses him. It’s quiet at first, slow and smooth. For half a moment, Yuuri doesn’t know where to put his hands, if he should even be breathing, if he should be moving his lips more. And then Victor sighs out his name and steps closer and all thought escapes Yuuri’s mind and Victor is all there is – just kissing him, just holding him. 

When they part again, Yuuri feels breathless. 

Victor’s hand is still on his chin and his thumb brushes, presses to his bottom lip. Their foreheads are pressed together and Victor’s eyes are closed. Absurdly, Yuuri wishes he’d open them, so he could look at the soft blue of his eyes. 

“I’ve… wanted to do that for such a long time,” Victor admits, quiet and exposed. 

And Yuuri doesn’t know how to respond. He bites his lip and steps back. 

His touch his gentle on Victor’s cheek and then he says, “… Goodnight, Victor.” 

He retreats, flees to his bedroom. 

 

-

 

Yuuri wakes up at 6:30 in the morning in time to hear Makkachin’s quiet _woof._

This time, Yuuri slogs himself out of bed, pulls on a sweatshirt, and exits into the hallway in time for Victor to step out, looking fresh-faced and unreasonably beautiful so early in the morning. 

He blinks in surprise when he sees Yuuri. “You’re awake!” 

“I, um…” Yuuri begins.

He must look rather hopeless as he looks up at Victor, because Victor smiles and asks, “Would you like to walk with us, Yuuri?” 

Makkachin’s already heading down the stairs, leash grasped between his teeth. 

Yuuri looks at Victor, licks his dry lips and says, “If it’s alright.” 

“Of course!” Victor says, eyes bright. In the morning light, he almost looks like he’s blushing. “Makkachin will be happy for the company.” 

Yuuri’s stomach flops a little and he looks down, smiling to himself. “I’ll… be happy to keep him company, then.” 

They take Makkachin for a longer-than-normal walk. Victor calls out a cheerful hello to everyone they pass, and Yuuri feels happy, if only to see Victor look so happy and at peace. 

 

-

 

“Tomorrow, we should discuss your exhibition skate,” Victor says as he splays his fingers along the surface of the onsen’s waters. Yuuri watches him absently as Victor traces little swirls along the water, barely causing any ripples. “Oh, and discuss the ending a bit for _Yuri on Ice_. I’m feeling happy with _Eros_ so we can leave that one aside for the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says quietly. 

“I put in the order for your costumes, so they’ll be here well before the Japan Figure Skating Championships.” 

“Okay,” Yuuri says again. 

“Have you given the exhibition skate any thought?” Victor asks.

Yuuri has – but he’s also terrified to voice what he’s been thinking. He shakes his head, sighs, and drops his hands into the water. 

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbles. “I should head in.” 

He stands, then, not waiting for Victor’s answer. The water sluices off his body and he’s aware, absently, that Victor is watching him – with that same quiet interest that Yuuri always casts his way when Victor is the first to leave the springs. He flushes a little but doesn’t shy away. It isn’t nakedness that leaves him so on edge, when it comes to Victor. He grabs a towel and glances back at Victor, who’s most certainly watching him.

“Um,” he whispers. “Are you…?”

“I’ll come, too,” Victor says and stands, following after him. 

 

-

 

He waits until they’re both on the ice before Yuuri confesses, quietly, “I have thought about the exhibition skate.”

“Oh?” Victor asks. 

Yuuri closes his eyes for a moment, summoning up the courage to push through. What’s the worst thing that can happen? That Victor will say no, that he will laugh. He knows that Victor can be dismissive, can be cruel without meaning to. He’ll get past it, if that happens. It means enough to him to ask it. So—

“I… I want to skate _Stay Close to Me._ ”

He opens his eyes in time to see Victor’s reaction. He isn’t sure what he expected Victor to do (to laugh, perhaps), but he’s surprised just by how astonished Victor looks. 

Yuuri immediately flounders. “Ah – it’s because, well… it’s the reason you’re here – it’s, it’s what started everything and I—” 

He trails off helplessly as Victor continues to stare at him.

Yuuri blushes and ducks his head. “Oh… nevermind, I know it’s a silly – I just – I thought—”

“No!” Victor interrupts, throwing his hands in the air and then lurching forward to take up Yuuri’s hands. “No, Yuuri, that’s _perfect_! I love it!” 

He can’t remember when he’s heard Victor sound so happy. Their fingers are interlaced and Yuuri stares down at their hands and then up at Victor, who is _beaming_ at him – and he can’t help but bubble out a helpless, pleased laugh.

“Really?”

“Yes!” Victor cheers, shaking their hands a little. “Yuuri, you’re brilliant!” 

Yuuri feels as if he might pass out from blushing, but he finds himself mirroring Victor’s grin, his entire body shaking apart with happiness. 

“O- okay.” 

 

-

 

 _But I’ve decided to call it love,_ he’d said on national television, and as soon as he puts it to words – he knows it’s true. 

And as soon as he sees Victor again, after barely a full day’s separation, he finds himself stepping forward and opening his arms to him. Victor laughs, light and not at Yuuri, but delighted, and falls into Yuuri’s arms as they fold into a hug together. 

It is the first time that Yuuri can remember initiating a hug and he lets himself sink into Victor’s hold – feels warm and protected at once. Feels complete. 

_I love him,_ he thinks, and the thought makes him feel warm. He wonders who translated his speech to Victor, if anyone bothered to – if Victor knows. 

He must know. He has to know. Even if he hasn’t said it to him yet, even if he hasn’t actually spoken the words. He has to know. 

 

-

 

Maybe he doesn’t have to be so afraid, Yuuri thinks, as he looks up at Victor the next night – the moon a sliver in the sky now. 

“Yuuri,” Victor says, but Yuuri doesn’t let him finish the thought – lifts his hands to cup Victor’s cheeks, and kisses him. He kisses him and kisses him – keeps kissing him even after he fumbles for Victor’s door, slides it open, and pushes Victor inside. 

Neither of them gets much sleep that night. 

 

-

 

Yuuri has never ached so sweetly before. 

Victor’s bed is very soft. Victor’s arms are soft around his waist when he wakes in the morning.

 

-

 

“Alright,” Victor says, clapping his hands together. “You’ve made great progress on your programs. But with Cup of China coming up soon, we really need to focus on your exhibition skate.” 

Yuuri nods. Despite deciding on _Stay Close to Me_ , they haven’t practiced it at all – instead focusing on Yuuri’s programs in preparation for the Japanese Championships. Those well behind them, it’s a matter of preparing for the international competitions.

“It’s important to remember,” Victor says, “that they’re just for fun. So don’t stress out about them.” Easier said than done, really. But it’s been long enough now that Yuuri knows that Victor knows they’re empty words. As evidenced by the fact that, a moment later, Victor adds, “I know that isn’t so easy for you, Yuuri. But you just have to trust me.”

Yuuri isn’t sure if it really is a matter of trust. The Cup of China is approaching and he needs to focus. He needs to be better. He needs to be enough – to have Victor stay, to have him want to be by Yuuri’s side. 

“Take your time,” Victor tells him – a concession, he knows. Victor’s coaching has shifted over the months, adapted to Yuuri’s needs. Victor waves his hand. “When you’re ready, Yuuri.”

Yuuri isn’t sure if he’s ever going to be ready. But he can’t delay it. He’s the one who asked Victor for this. He’s the one who danced this at the start, the one who drew Victor here – who somehow inspired him, who somehow captured his attention. Now, he has to keep it. Now, he has to hold onto Victor for as long as he can. 

Yuuri swallows thickly. He’s never skated this program in front of Victor before. He doesn’t count the YouTube video, at least – because then, Victor wasn’t something _real_ and in front of him. Now, in the empty ice rink, just him and Victor, Yuuri feels undoubtedly exposed.

He swallows once, breathes, and takes the starting pose. He waits for Victor to queue up the music and then he goes. It’s been a while since he’s skated the program, but he knows it by heart – just as he knows all of Victor’s programs by heart, imprinted there almost as deeply as his own. 

The twist in his stomach feels now like something fuzzy and his heart beats as he moves. It’s strange to hear the song going as he moves – he’d performed this in silence for Yuuko all those months ago – and he’s hyperaware of Victor’s presence. Knows that Victor is judging every movement, every breath – will point out any of the shortcomings to him. 

He wants it to be worthwhile for Victor to see – wants Victor to see the story, the emotion, the purpose reflected back in Yuuri’s body as he moves, as the music flows through him. He wants Victor to see Yuuri dance and _know_ he’d made the right decision coming here. 

He skates _Stay Close to Me_ just as he had in the video – better, perhaps, in that he’s in shape now and has an inherent musicality now that he can pair his movements with the music. It’s not a perfect recreation to Victor’s. Victor’s quad flip is a triple flip. The quad salchow becomes a triple, too. His heart burns with envy, knows that if he were better, if he were more worthwhile, he could land these jumps as effortlessly as Victor can, if only he could try harder, if only he could keep pushing—

No, he breathes into the transition, lets himself feel it, lets himself feel that weight – hyperaware of Victor watching him. Victor. 

_Stay Close to Me_ continues and he begins to relax – lets his expression open up, lets himself _feel_ it. It’s different now – not like the viral video, where he was calling out for something else, with the wish and hope to continue performing, to be better, to get back on the ice, to be something worthwhile. 

Now, he exits his spin and watches Victor – his expression too far away to read, but his heart overflows as his arms slide through the air into the choreography. 

_Let me be something worthwhile,_ he pleads. _Let me be worth it. Let me be something you never regret. Stay._

Stay. Stay. Stay—

The Victor he watched, again and again, through this choreography – tinny, shaky YouTube videos, on the old television screen, one time in person (don’t think about it, don’t think about it) – and that Victor was someone so distant now. That Victor was his idol, unattainable, inhuman, distant. The light of the moon, a faraway star, a galaxy of beautiful, unattainable stars – Yuuri in darkness, looking up at the night sky as it soaked its way into morning. 

Another Victor, here in this room with him – the one who snores loud enough that sometimes Yuuri can hear him in his bedroom, the one who dotes on his dog and pampers him, the one who laughs at dumb jokes, the one who struggles his way through Japanese in order to thank his mother for the meal. This Victor, who is so painfully human that Yuuri physically aches. No longer a god, but someone precious. Someone that Yuuri—

The song comes to an end and Yuuri sweeps his arms around himself into his final pose, panting as he gazes up at the ceiling of Ice Castle and imagines a dark sky of stars, Victor so far away – just wanting him to come down to him. Just wanting to be able to go up to him. 

Finished now, he feels breathless – and not just from exertion. He feels exposed. 

Slowly, he lowers his arms, takes a deep breath, and turns his head to find Victor again – terrified, perhaps, of what he will see. 

From so far away, Yuuri can’t make out Victor beyond a smudge of his silver hair. Yuuri squints a little, heaves a breath, and pushes off from the ice to approach the blocks. Victor slowly swims into view and as Yuuri gets closer, he can see that he’s smiling. 

There’s a softness to him. The lights in Ice Castle are always too harsh, and yet here, Victor looks gentler, something soft like a painting. Almost as if he isn’t real. 

Yuuri reaches out, plants his hands on the blocks, and almost asks his first breathless question – but Victor’s hands lay overtop of Yuuri’s a moment later, and just hold him there. 

The moment is a silent one, and Yuuri is almost afraid to meet Victor’s eyes. When he looks up, their eyes meet – and hold for a long moment. No words pass between them. Yuuri is vividly aware of how close Victor is, where his hands press against Yuuri’s. 

“Beautiful,” Victor tells him, his voice soft with praise. “Beautiful, Yuuri.” 

_Beautiful Yuuri,_ it sounds instead. Either way, Yuuri is breathless. 

“It wasn’t perfect,” he tells Victor. “The flip. The salchow—”

Victor’s fingers shift, trace along the tendons in Yuuri’s hand, over his knuckles. Yuuri falls silent. 

“I wanted to see you skate that again,” Victor tells him, “for a long time now. So long.”

All words escape Yuuri. He swallows and finally manages, after a stilted moment, “Really?” 

“Of course,” Victor says, and his voice sounds quieter now – as if he, too, is afraid to break the hush of this moment. He closes his eyes and tilts his head, smiling with a thoughtful hum. “You skate it well, Yuuri.” 

“… Thank you,” Yuuri answers, helpless, because all other words feel inadequate, because words are impossible to convey what hearing that means to him. His eyes feel too bright as he looks at Victor. 

Victor’s smile is sweet. He touches Yuuri’s hands and Yuuri lets him. Turns his hands so their fingers thread together. 

“You’re perfect, Yuuri,” Victor says and Yuuri almost believes him. 

 

-

 

It was a mistake. Or something like a mistake. They’re in Minako’s studio, running through the choreography for _Stay Close to Me._

It’s easier now, to dance in front of Victor. Victor is his audience, the one he’s dancing for – the one he always wants to be dancing for. He slides through the steps, spinning in place of the jumps, taking up the whole space. 

Victor’s laughing behind him – not at him, but delighted, clapping a little when Yuuri executes a particularly strong spin and leap, transitioning the skating choreography into dancing choreography. 

Yuuri grins, too, despite himself. But he loses his attention for one moment and stumbles, nearly falls—

And then Victor’s hands are on him, lifting him. It’s the strangest feeling and in that moment, Yuuri feels breathless – gasps out. Victor lifts him like it’s effortless, spins him, and sets him back down again.

He’s laughing as he does. “Wow,” he laughs, “that was close!”

But Yuuri finds his hands lingering on his shoulders, eyes wide, looking up at him. 

“Wow,” he answers, quieter, not as childlike as Victor’s exclamations can be. 

Victor seems to hear it in his voice, too, because he quiets and stills – looks down at Yuuri. Their eyes catch and hold. The room feels quiet for a moment.

Then, Victor asks, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

 

-

 

It’s not that it’s a simple matter – but it’s simpler than Yuuri would have expected. There’s another piece of music that accompanies the one Yuuri knows. Victor presses the ear bud into Yuuri’s ear one night as they’re lounging in Victor’s bed – Yuuri so rarely retreats to his own bedroom now – and the sound floods through his body. He almost cries, but not quite, and once the song finishes, he sniffles and turns his head to find Victor watching him. 

“It’s beautiful,” Yuuri tells him and knows the words are inadequate. 

“Are you alright?” Victor asks him, soft and concerned.

“I’m fine, it’s just—” He shakes his head. He can’t understand the words, but he knows them. Knows that feeling. Feels it every day he wakes up and Victor is still here. 

“Do you want to use this?” Victor asks. “It might be too late now, but maybe for the Grand Prix—”

His two qualifying events are too soon, Yuuri knows this. But there’s a flood of warmth at the surety that Victor presents the suggestion – as if there is no question that Yuuri will make it to the Grand Prix. Somehow, that’s what makes him tear up. He hides his face against Victor’s shoulder so that he doesn’t notice. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles into his shoulder.

 

-

 

 _Just stay by my side and never leave!_ Yuuri screams in an underground parking lot, miles away from home, in China. And Victor stares at him as if that request had never occurred to him before, as if Yuuri has not been desperate to hold onto him this entire time.

He skates, jumps into a quad flip, and Victor sails into his arms – just as desperate as him.

 

-

 

“Yuuri,” Victor sighs out, frustration evident in his tone. “You have to trust me for this to work.” 

Yuuri feels the embarrassment welling up in his chest, knows his face is bright red not from the chill of the ice rink. 

It’s one thing to be thrown around in Minako’s studio, another thing entirely to do it while on ice and wearing ice skates. He can’t control where his legs might go. What if he hits Victor, what if they land funny, what if he’s too heavy—

Victor sweeps in, takes up Yuuri’s hand, and kisses the back of it and that—

Yuuri still isn’t used to that. The simple, easy way that Victor touches him – the simple, easy way that Yuuri accepts it. His entire body feels as if it is on fire and he stares, wide-eyed, as Victor tugs once and leads them back to the blocks.

“Take a break,” Victor tells him, handing him his water bottle. Yuuri feels like a newborn colt, completely unsteady on his legs and unable to complete simple tasks like unscrewing the cap of his water and taking a drink. He knows he’s likely gaping at Victor. Absurd, that he should react this way to something so simple when he’s seen Victor naked, knows what he looks like when he comes. And yet. 

Victor, for his part, either doesn’t notice or decides to ignore him. 

 

-

 

“Yes, yes, brilliant, Yuuri!” Victor calls, and before Yuuri can quite remember it or why – Victor is there, hands on his hips, lifting him up and spinning him. 

It should be terrifying – an unexpected touch, his feet no longer on the ground, that complete and utter lack of control—

But he feels breathless, hands falling to Victor’s shoulders as they spin. 

Victor slows, still holding Yuuri up. Yuuri, still balancing himself against Victor’s shoulders. They look at one another. For one quiet, breathless moment they just look at one another – suspended in time. 

Then Yuuri swallows down and slides his hands from Victor’s shoulders to cup his face instead, and brings his head down to rest his forehead against Victor’s. 

They stay like that, suspended, breathing in one another’s space. 

“Yuuri,” Victor finally breathes. 

“Do that again,” Yuuri tells him. 

Victor obeys – sets Yuuri down just to adjust his grip and sweep him up again, lifting him. One step at a time. 

 

-

 

“You don’t have to try so hard,” Victor whispers into the soft skin of his neck, his breath warm and moist, “to keep me here, Yuuri. I’m here. I’m here.” 

It sounds like a plea, a mantra – and Yuuri bathes in it, lets it seep into his skin, into his blood. He closes his eyes and wants to feel it, wants to know it’s true without a moment of doubt or uncertainty. 

He wants to believe it, more than anything. 

He tangles his fingers into Victor’s hair and jerks him up, catching his mouth with his – kisses him silent. 

 

-

 

It’s been weeks and Yuuri’s still not getting it. He has the exhibition skate – his solo skate – down and done with. And it’s difficult to devote so much time to an exhibition skate that will be executed once, especially when he should be focusing on adding the quad flip to his routines. But he also doesn’t want to embarrass Victor, not when he’s finally getting the chance to get Victor on the ice, to actually skate _with_ him for a change.

One last thing to hold onto, before they part ways. One last thing for him to remember. Something he can look back on fondly and, maybe, avoid crying when his heart breaks at the bittersweetness of it. 

He knows that Victor senses it. Senses it in the way Yuuri kisses him, in the way he lingers. Like he is terrified, like he is already saying goodbye. Victor, for his part, has become rather adequate at reading Yuuri’s moods. Though he can’t sense the reason for Yuuri’s moods, for his quietness, he can sense that Yuuri is upset. 

 

-

 

Something must shift into place for Victor, though. He takes Yuuri’s hand and tugs him towards the rink, places him in the exact spot he wants him.

“You need to trust me,” Victor tells him.

Yuuri frowns, shakes his head. “It isn’t—”

“Just watch,” Victor tells him and removes his skate guards. He steps onto the ice and turns back to make sure that Yuuri is waiting at the blocks. He says again, “Watch me, Yuuri.” 

“I am,” Yuuri whispers.

“Don’t look away,” Victor instructs. 

Yuuri nods, trains his eyes on Victor and watches as he approaches the center of the rink. Victor stretches out and looks up at the ceiling. Then he sighs, shakes a hand through his hair, and settles into position. 

Victor looks up as the strikes the starting pose – and locks eyes on Yuuri. There is no music playing, but Yuuri knows the music by heart, recognizes _Stay Close to Me_ just by the way Victor’s head moves down, the way his body starts to move. 

Yuuri’s heart lodges into his throat and stays there as Victor begins to move. There is no music, no costume – but Victor skating his routine, this routine, is like an explosion of the song in Yuuri’s mind. He hears every string, every note, every trill of music in time with the scrape of skates on ice. 

He’s seen Victor skate this routine so many times now. Has skated this routine so many times himself now. But it’s different now – something different beyond just the absence of music, of costume. Victor makes eye contact with him directly, far more than the choreography should ask for – and he isn’t looking away from Yuuri. Yuuri keeps his eye, keeps watching him, even as his hands turn white-knuckled from gripping the blocks. 

Watching Victor skate the program – it’s amazing, no matter what. It’s something completely different from anything else, and seeing Victor skate will always take Yuuri’s breath away. He launches into his quad flip and catches Yuuri’s eyes again. He executes a sharp spin and he finds Yuuri’s eyes again. He doesn’t look away. 

And as he skates, the world turns small – there is only Victor, there is only Yuuri. There is only the two of them. And there’s something building inside of Yuuri, something unspeakable and desirable, something that he’s been inching towards, but always afraid to acknowledge, to find. 

Everything in the routine is perfect. But it’s different now. There’s something different in Victor’s face as he skates, as he stares straight at Yuuri, doesn’t look away. 

Maybe this is what Victor felt, Yuuri thinks, watching Victor skate with no music, with only his body, with only the scrape of his blades on the ice. Maybe this is what Victor felt, watching that grainy YouTube video all those months ago. 

There’s something tender and open in Victor’s expression as he skates. He moves into the final steps – his hands reaching out towards Yuuri, again and again imploring him to come closer, hand pressing to his heart then opening up again, inviting him. Something heaves in Yuuri’s chest and he itches to launch himself onto the ice, to reach out to Victor, to meet his call. 

Victor sweeps himself into the final pose, arms around himself – looking empty, lonely, breathless as he stands still, his head tilted to look at Yuuri again. 

Yuuri is trembling and he can see, all the way to the center of the ice, that Victor is trembling, too. 

Yuuri reaches down blindly, loathed to look away from Victor, and pulls his skate guards off. When he wobbles his way onto the ice, he feels like a novice all over again, but unable and unwilling to look away from Victor. 

Victor skates over to meet him. They’re drawn to each other – unable to move away, unable to look away. 

This close to him, suddenly Yuuri has no idea what to say to Victor. All words he can think of seem inadequately pathetic. His tongue feels thick in his mouth, unable to articulate everything he feels in this moment. 

Up close, he can see how much Victor is trembling. How open and vulnerable his expression had been, how quiet and uncertain it is now. It isn’t an expression he’s used to seeing on Victor’s face. Waiting. Expectant. Terrified. 

Yuuri reaches his hands up and cups Victor’s cheeks. 

“You love me,” Yuuri says, and he’s glad that his words come out soft rather than accusing. 

Victor’s mouth quirks into a small, helpless little smile – something so small, so precious. Yuuri wants to hang onto it forever. 

“So you did see.”

“I didn’t look away,” Yuuri tells him, and hates that even touching Victor’s face, his hands are trembling. Why is he speaking, why is he _bothering_ with this—

“Yes,” Victor says. “I love you.” 

Yuuri feels himself go breathless. It isn’t as if he didn’t know, it isn’t as if he didn’t see it – but to hear it, to feel Victor beneath his hands—

“Yuuri,” Victor whispers, and his name has never sounded like that before, will probably never sound like that again. 

Victor’s hand lifts, curling around Yuuri’s wrist. 

Yuuri startles to realize that Victor is waiting. He hasn’t looked away from Yuuri once since finishing his routine. 

“I love you, too,” Yuuri says, and it’s wrong, it’s inaccurate, it doesn’t even possibly begin to embody everything he feels, everything he is, everything that Victor is to _him_ and yet—

Victor’s expression blooms, turns warm and bright and _happy_ and Yuuri finds himself smiling back, his entire body feeling as if it will shake apart at any moment. 

“I love you,” he says again, tests it out, and it’s not adequate, it’s not _enough_ but it will have to work for now—

And especially when Victor gasps out a happy little laugh and ducks down, kissing Yuuri. Yuuri kisses him back, shifts his hands to curl around Victor’s shoulders – keeps him down close to him, keeps him there. Stay, stay, stay—

Victor folds into Yuuri’s arms. Holds him back. Kisses him again and again. 

 

-

 

“Just follow me,” Victor tells him, places his hand on Yuuri’s cheek and guides him forward. 

And it’s a ridiculous request – as if Yuuri has ever been able to look away from Victor – and he skates forward with him, lets Victor guide him with the hand on his cheek and the other on his hip, and they’re skating together, sliding together, dancing together. 

“Let yourself feel it,” Victor says quietly. Yuuri closes his eyes – lets Victor lead him. 

Victor guides him, a nudge of his hand occasionally to coax Yuuri into the movements. Victor’s hands shift, touch all over Yuuri’s body – and that alone is enough to electrify him. The hand on his cheek. The back of his neck. His back. His hip. His side. His arm. 

The entire time, Yuuri lets Victor guide him, lets Victor touch him. He feels as if he is turning to gold in sunlight, sparkling and shining, something only for Victor, something for Victor to hold, then to let go of. But Victor never does. 

_Trust him,_ Yuuri thinks. He clenches his eyes shut tighter for a moment before forcing himself to relax. _I trust him._

It comes as a revelation and Victor guides him, picks up speed and doesn’t flag. It’s a bigger revelation than knowing he loves Victor – that, at least, has been something that has always existed. He has loved Victor since the very first moment he saw him. To trust him, though, to trust him with this, with everything—

Yuuri doesn’t open his eyes – feels only the touch of Victor’s hands, the sound of blades on ice. Victor is there. Always within reach. His body moving with Yuuri’s, guiding Yuuri. 

He trusts him. 

Victor’s hands shift, grow steady, and he guides Yuuri into a lift—

And Yuuri goes with him, feels his feet leave the ground, feels the feeling of control drop away—

And trusts Victor to guide him, to keep him safe, to set him back down gently again. Trusts Victor, more than he’ll ever be able to put into words – to be there, within arm’s reach. To look out for him. To guide him. To help him become the best that he can be. 

He gives himself completely to Victor, doesn’t fold into himself, doesn’t stop – lets Victor set him down and guide him along. They slide through curves, what would be spins. Victor’s arm wraps around his waist and they circle one another. He can feel that Victor has gone breathless, but his hands are sure on Yuuri. And Yuuri trusts him. Yuuri doesn’t let go. 

When Victor brings them to a stop finally, finally Yuuri opens his eyes and drinks in Victor, who is just a hair’s breath away from him. Yuuri’s heart hammers in his chest. Victor is flushed, breathless, looking only at Yuuri. 

Yuuri’s hand lifts and traces the line of Victor’s jaw, reciprocating the touch that Victor has pressed into his skin. How could it ever have been that there was a time when Victor touching him terrified him enough to withdraw? He is terrified now, but terrified instead that Victor might step away. 

Yuuri feels, absurdly, as if he might cry. His hand hovers at Victor’s cheek. 

Victor breathes out, something in his expression that Yuuri’s never seen before – and then he leans into Yuuri’s touch. 

 

-

 

“Yuuri,” Victor whispers, adjusting the lapel of Yuuri’s blue costume, the gold of his ring glinting off the overhead lights. “You’ll be fine. This will be perfect.” 

“I know,” Yuuri whispers, takes his hand and kisses the ring. He’ll be out on the ice in a moment, alone only for a minute before Victor joins him. “I trust you.” 

He skates out onto the ice and knows it won’t be long before Victor follows him.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr.](http://stardropdream.tumblr.com/) Come say hi!


End file.
